


no time to wallow in the mire

by Nokomis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-12 23:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nokomis/pseuds/Nokomis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale fails at everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no time to wallow in the mire

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Desfinado! <3
> 
> A huge thanks to Lielabell for the beta.

“Do you want to go see a movie?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Derek knew he’d made a mistake. Stiles literally froze, his face working through his emotions lightning-fast. There was confusion and uncertainty and a little fear, like Stiles thought he might be losing his mind, before Stiles replied with a careful, “Um. Do you usually do things that normal people do? Because the thought is blowing my mind, to be honest.”

Derek was pretty sure that Stiles hadn’t even realized that Derek was trying to ask him on a date, so he just said, “I’m a normal person.”

Stiles actually laughed. Derek glared.

“Point proven,” Stiles announced, pointing gleefully at Derek’s face. Derek didn’t really see how that proved that he wasn’t normal, since as far as he could tell, most people had faces.

But the moment had clearly passed, especially since the truck that they were trailing suddenly took off, and Stiles didn’t bring up the movie invitation again.

Derek tried not to let it hurt his feelings.

*

A week later, Stiles helped Derek break into the town hall to find the original blueprints of the suspected hunter hideout. Derek had thought about his failure to ask Stiles out the previous week and had decided to just treat the outing itself like a date. Maybe he’d have more success, since he already knew that Stiles was interested.

Granted, Stiles had been interested for over a year, and Derek had been acting purposefully oblivious to the whole thing, like he didn’t have a nose or ears or possession of basic logic, since Stiles was the least subtle human in the world. 

At first it was just annoying, and then it became an endearing trait Stiles had, like how before he would wax poetic about Lydia, though thankfully Derek hadn’t been forced to hear Stiles wax poetic about Derek himself in person. His pack had gleefully started updating him on it, though, and Derek really, really missed the days when his pack was intimidated by him.

Sometimes he woke up and found post-its with little cartoons about Stiles’ latest admission of love stuck to his bedposts. There were lots of bubbly hearts and stick figures swooning over so-called ruggedly beautiful werewolves and jawlines crafted by the gods. It was really embarrassing, and Derek found himself clenching said jaw and glaring a lot more than usual, which in turn made Stiles gulp and his pack give him bright, cheerful looks.

Derek might have considered turning his pack over to some other Alpha and letting them learn just how lucky they were to have him.

But then at some point he started to realize how much he relied on Stiles. Stiles had saved his life multiple times, even before he had any reason to trust Derek, and Stiles was invested in the pack and did more than his share to keep them safe, and Derek…

Derek started to notice that he was much happier with Stiles around than he was when Stiles was away, and more importantly, he liked him. He was funny and bright and didn’t let the bad things beat him down, and Derek desperately wanted to learn how he managed that. Stiles’ life wasn’t untouched by tragedy, but he pushed through it, and Derek envied that.

But he had kept his distance still because Stiles was young, and any feelings he had were likely to just be a crush that would fade. Even though the situations were different, Derek couldn’t help but see shades of his relationship with Kate, so he had kept his feelings locked up tight.

He prided himself on being pretty good at that, what with all the practice he had, but as months edged on and the pack faced down dangers and forged a stronger bond than ever, denying the growing, inescapable attraction between himself and Stiles began to take its toll.

Scott had taken to calling him “Mr. Crankypants,” whereas Erica made far more direct comments about blue balls.

Finally, it was Lydia who sat him down and carefully explained to him that he had to do something before the pack revolted, and seriously, he needed to deal with his issues already, no one was sixteen anymore.

Derek managed to not say, “Barely,” but Lydia did probably have a point. Things were well past the stage where he thought this was just a fleeting crush on Stiles’ part, and they had a rapport. They were _pack_.

And Derek couldn’t deny the fact that his own feelings had deeper roots than a simple crush.

So he asked Stiles out, and Stiles acted like it was the most bizarre question ever posed in the history of mankind, and thus, Derek decided to skip the asking and instead just give the whole dating thing a trial run with the break-in.

Stiles gave him an odd look when Derek held the door open for him after he picked the lock, allowing Stiles to duck inside first.

Derek followed Stiles through the halls, knowing from experience that Stiles was familiar with all the city buildings of the town, and finally Stiles opened up the door to a dusty storage room in the basement.

“Old blueprints are kept here,” Stiles explained. “Since, unlucky for us, the planning and zones department seems to be allergic to modern technology.”

Derek scanned the room out of habit, taking in exit routes, and then helped Stiles rifle through the drawers, hoping to figure out which one held the right set of blueprints. It took a while, but finally they found the set they needed. Stiles smoothed it out on a table far enough from the door that they could duck and hide if someone came, but Derek didn’t think they needed even that much precaution. Except for a night watchmen that Derek suspected was sleeping, going by his slow heartbeat, the building was empty.

Stiles leaned over the blueprints, trying to figure out where the sewer access was in the abandoned factory that the hunters were using as a base of operations.

Derek stood behind him, peering over his shoulder. Stiles stiffened, then gave a little shake like he’d given himself a pep talk, and pointed out a few spots on the blueprint.

“That one’s covered up,” Derek said, resting a hand on Stiles’ left shoulder. “Cement. No entry.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, sounding slightly strangled as Derek leaned in, letting his arm drape over Stiles’ shoulders. He stayed there, enjoying the feel of Stiles under his arm. “Erm. Maybe this one?” 

Derek mentally aligned the location Stiles pointed to with what he saw of the factory during his brief recon mission. “That one has potential. It’s bricked over, but I think we could bust through it.”

“Goodie,” Stiles replied. He hunched his shoulders, almost like he was trying to shrug Derek’s arm off. Derek curled his fingers over Stiles’ collarbone, feeling the play of muscles as Stiles smoothed the blueprints again, despite the fact they were already lying flat.

Derek guessed that meant that his arm had overstayed its welcome, and he awkwardly lifted it off Stiles’ shoulders and dropped it to his side. He didn’t really know what he expected -- perhaps Stiles sighing and leaning into him and then them coming up with a master plan to get rid of hunters once and for all -- but he’s not even surprised when he doesn’t get that. His life wasn’t the kind where he got nice things, and Stiles was more than he deserved.

Stiles looked over his shoulder at him. Usually Stiles was an open book, but right now, his expression was unreadable.

“Let’s go,” Derek said. 

Stiles snapped a few pictures of the blueprints on his phone for later reference, and they put it back, making sure that there was no reason to check the security tapes. 

Once they were back into Derek’s car -- he had picked Stiles up, idling a block away from Stiles’ house in case the Sheriff happened to glance out -- he took them to a drive-in restaurant. Stiles stared blankly at the neon lights and brightly lit menu beside the car.

“Um,” Stiles said.

“I thought you might be hungry,” Derek offered. He kept one hand resting on the wheel, tapping his fingers nervously. 

“I’m good,” Stiles replied. He looked kind of like a deer in the headlights, which really, really wasn’t what Derek was going for. “You don’t have to feed me or anything. It’s good.”

“A burger?” Derek tried again, because in his head, Stiles had at least ordered food and that gave them a reason to sit there together. “Milkshake?”

“Did you just...” Stiles blinked at him rapidly. “Did you offer to buy me ice cream?”

Derek had no answer, so he just sat there.

“We’ve known each other a while,” Stiles continued, “and that has never happened. Ever.”

Derek just helplessly nodded his agreement. This was new territory. That was clear. 

Stiles peered at him. “Are you Bizarro Derek?”

“No,” Derek replied shortly. He started the car. “I’ll just take you home.”

Stiles didn’t look away. “I... yeah. Yeah, I guess that’s a good idea.”

Stiles was oddly silent during the drive, though he didn’t stop moving, nervously pressing buttons on the stereo, adjusting the heat, moving his seat around, even reaching over to re-adjust the angle of the vents on Derek’s side of the car.

Derek dropped him off directly in front of his house, and Stiles looked like he wanted to bitch about it, but bit his tongue. Derek could tell that he’d unnerved Stiles, and that was exactly the opposite of what he’d been trying to do.

So he gave it one more try before Stiles went inside, calling, “Hey,” after him.

Stiles turned on his heels and said, “What?” in a high pitched, nervous voice.

“I...” Derek paused, considering his words, “appreciate you. Your help,” he quickly amended, because Stiles’ face actually _fell_.

“Awesome,” Stiles burst out with, waving his hands around. “That’s... really awesome, thank you, buddy.”

Then he turned on his heels and fled into the house like the big bad wolf was after him. Derek stared after him for a minute, trying to figure out exactly _where_ he went wrong.

Probably everywhere, he thought, scratching the whole idea of just taking Stiles out for dates without clearing it with him first. 

*

Derek didn’t exactly _intend_ to eavesdrop, but once you were outside someone’s bedroom window, perched on a narrow ledge, and you realized that the people inside were talking about _you_... Well. Sometimes you just had to embrace the moment.

“You don’t understand,” Stiles was saying, his footsteps shuffling around like he was pacing around Scott’s bedroom. “It’s _Derek_ , and he was being nice. Like out-of-his-way _nice_.”

“He does that sometimes,” Scott replied uncertainly. 

“Name one time,” Stiles said, then after a brief pause, “when no one’s life was in danger.”

Derek scowled at the wall and edged closer so that he could see inside the window. He made a mental note to talk to Scott about how lax he was in scanning his perimeter. Scott should be aware of when there were other wolves lurking outside his window, no matter how beneficial Derek was finding that at the moment.

Stiles stood in the middle of the room, a look of utter confusion on his face. Scott was sitting on his bed, looking contemplative. “Derek does like you though.”

“Derek doesn’t like anyone.” Stiles waved his arms around for emphasis. “And now he’s suddenly inviting me places and trying to buy me food and he put his arm around me, Scott, you don’t even understand how hard it was for me to--”

Scott snorted, and Stiles turned an impressive shade of red. “Oh my god Scott, you can’t pick _now_ to make inappropriate jokes. You weren’t there. I almost _squeaked_. Like a mouse, Scott. Like a _mouse_.”

Derek didn’t know how he would have reacted if Stiles had squeaked. Badly, probably. 

“I think you’re blowing this out of proportion,” Scott said calmly, stretching out on his bed and yawning. “Still. You’ve been stressing out all day, dude.”

“I can’t get over it,” Stiles exclaimed. He sat down next to Scott, flopping back and staring up at the ceiling. “If I didn’t know better I’d think he was trying to flirt with me or something.”

Derek made a tiny choking sound.

Scott turned his head to the side, like he didn’t even realize why he was checking the window, and Derek saw the panic in his eyes when he spotted Derek.

“Erm,” Scott said wildly, “that’s crazy talk!”

“Real supportive, buddy,” Stiles grumbled. 

Scott made a tiny shooing motion with his hand, and Derek decided that leaving was probably prudent.

He was almost to his car when he heard Stiles sigh wistfully and say, “It would be nice, though. If Derek really was interested.”

He didn’t stay long enough to hear Scott’s response. 

*

Derek couldn’t get Stiles’ words out of his head. 

He’d been doing his best to show Stiles that he had feelings for him, and Stiles just thought… well. Derek wasn’t quite sure _what_ Stiles thought was going on, but Stiles had absolutely missed the point. 

Derek had to face it. He was going to have to explicitly tell Stiles that he had feelings for him.

The problem with that was that no matter how many times Derek pictured the scene, it always ended with Stiles laughing at him. Sometimes nervously, sometimes incredulously, but every time... it was going to be a disaster.

So Derek put it off.

He stayed even quieter than usual when Stiles was around, and in return Stiles got more and more skittish around him, like he was no longer certain that Derek was in control of himself. The rest of the pack began to avoid Derek. Derek spent a lot of time alone, which meant that he just thought of more and more ways that things could go wrong.

“This is ridiculous,” Peter told him eventually. “Man up.”

Derek growled at him. 

“You’re right,” Peter said with one of his annoying _looks_. “With a winning personality like that, boys should just be throwing themselves at your feet.”

Derek knew better than to try to talk back to his uncle, but the words bubbled out of him unbidden. “My personality is fine.”

Even Derek realized that he sounded as bland as a cardboard box.

Peter sighed and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

Derek didn’t see the positive quality in that if it can’t even score him the one person he wants, and told Peter as much.

“Well,” Peter said. “Have you tried kissing him? Skip the words part, since you pretty much do that already. Just add an action.”

Derek really didn’t think that would work. “When I want your opinion, I’ll ask.”

Peter shrugged. “You’re the one suffering here, sunshine.”

*

Derek wasn’t really sure how it happened – his pack was sneakier than even he gave them credit for – but when he went to steal the grimoire out of the hunter’s hideout, Stiles was his backup.

Stiles looked super reluctant to be there, literally dragging his feet as he went from his Jeep to Derek’s car, and when he got in he sat awkwardly, pressed as close to the door as humanly possible.

“I don’t bite,” Derek can’t help but say.

Stiles scoffed. “Tell that to Erica. And Jackson. And Boyd. And--”

“I was joking,” Derek explained slowly, like Stiles was a child. “Irony.”

“If you’re trying to put me at ease,” Stiles replied, shoulder still pushed up against the door panel, “joking is so not the way to go about it.”

“Then how do you want me to go about it?” Derek asked.

Stiles blushed. _Blushed_. Derek stared at him, thinking about Peter’s advice, but then Stiles quickly burst out with, “So hey, let’s go hunt some hunters. Get our thievin’ shoes on and all that. Steal us a magic book.”

Derek nodded and drove them as close to the hunters’ hideout as he dared. When they approached the sewer access, Stiles looked like he was about to run the opposite direction.

“You’re staying in the tunnel,” Derek said, trying for reassuring again. This time it seemed marginally more successful. “You just have to operate the jammer.”

Stiles looked down at the device he and Danny rigged up, and said, “Yes. I’m going to jam things. Signals, I mean. Signals are the only things to be jammed. Wavelengths. ET no phone home.”

Derek was pretty sure that even Stiles had no idea what he was talking about. He decided to not comment on that. “Good.”

Stiles took a deep breath, and Derek took a step closer. He thought about running through the game plan again, but Stiles was the one who actually came up with the plan, so it would only serve to make Derek look incompetent. He just stood there, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, feeling more awkward than he had since he was in high school himself.

“I can do this,” Stiles said quietly, like he didn’t even realize he was speaking out loud. He wasn’t looking at the sewer entrance, but at Derek, and Derek suddenly realized that his apprehension was about being alone with Derek in the sewer.

There was nothing Derek could say that wouldn’t make the situation worse, so he just brushed past Stiles and headed down into the sewer.

Stiles nearly fell coming down the ladder. Derek reached out and caught his arm, steadying him. This close, the rapid _beat-beat-beat_ of Stiles’ heart was like machinegun fire, and Derek could feel the pounding of Stiles’ pulse even through the multiple layers of clothing where he was holding onto Stiles’ arm.

“Th-thanks,” Stiles got out. He was holding himself very still, like he was afraid, though Derek didn’t even have to take in a breath to know that the scene he was putting out was not fear. 

Derek realized he was still holding Stiles’ arm, was still feeling Stiles’ heat radiating off his body, and abruptly let him go and took a step backward.

“Come on,” he said, leading the way down the westward tunnel. He can hear Stiles hesitate behind him, foot scuffing nervously against the wet cement, and then finally Stiles followed him. He was grateful for the space, to be honest, since it gave him time to steady his own breathing and get his heartbeat settled into a slower pace. 

Away from the opened entrance, the walls grew narrower and the light dimmed to nearly nothing. It was difficult for Derek to see even with his enhanced vision, and he was pretty sure that Stiles was flying blind with his human eyes.

Derek reached back and took Stiles’ hand, trying hard not to examine his motives too closely. Stiles’ hand was damp in his, and Derek tightened his grip. Stiles squeezed back, and allowed himself to be lead through the tunnel.

When they got to roughly the area they’d picked out on the blueprints, Derek let go. It was immediately obvious where the access tunnel had been bricked up at, and Derek shifted so he could inflict the most damage to it as quickly as possible, hoping that the hunters were in fact all out, as the pack had set up a distraction.

It took only a few seconds since the mortar holding the bricks in place was already crumbling. As soon as the hole was big enough to step through, Derek stopped. He listened carefully, but there were no shouts of alarm from the direction of the hunters’ hideout, so he stepped through. 

Stiles carefully followed him, lighting his way with his phone, and Derek didn’t even complain about how it made it more difficult for him to see.

Derek halted them a dozen feet from the entrance to the hideout. “This close enough?” he whispered, leaning in close.

“Should be,” Stiles said. He began to fiddle with the disruption device, fingers shaking slightly as he adjusted a knob on the side of it. Derek glanced in the direction of the hideout. No movement, no heartbeats. It was clear. He should go out and grab the grimoire while the coast was clear, but…

He rubbed his hand against his jeans, remembering the feel of Stiles’ hand in his. It had felt _right_ , in a way he’d never felt before. 

He couldn’t fuck this up. He’d kept things bottled in because he’d been afraid of losing Stiles, but… he was going to lose Stiles anyway if he _didn’t_ do anything. The tension between them wasn’t going to dissipate, not after this long, but Stiles wasn’t bound to Beacon Hills. Not anymore. 

And Derek didn’t want to drive him away. He wanted the opposite of that, in fact.

So he followed Peter’s advice, and kissed Stiles.

Only Stiles wasn’t really expecting it, that much was clear, when Derek ended up kind of mashing his face against Stiles’. His lips wound up somewhere in the vicinity of Stiles’ nose. It was easily the most awkward moment between them to date, and Stiles let out a confused yelp. Derek didn’t blame him at all. He pulled back, grateful that the darkness of the tunnel meant that Stiles couldn’t see how red his face was.

He just _kissed Stiles’ nose_. 

Stiles rubbed said nose. “Um.”

Derek stuck with silence. There was no way to explain what just happened. 

“Was that…” Stiles stopped rubbing his nose long enough to ruffle his hand through his hair. “I mean. That was. Your mouth.”

“I missed,” Derek admitted. He backed away a few paces.

“You did,” Stiles agreed. “That… well, it kind of hurt, actually. I’m not really an expert but I think that would have been a failure even if you hadn’t missed. You really went for it, buddy.”

“I was nervous,” Derek said, since apparently he’d flipped some sort of mental switch and was in embarrassing-truth mode.

Stiles blinked rapidly. “You were nervous.”

Derek nodded, even though he wasn’t sure Stiles could see it.

“Was that...” Stiles kept stopping mid-sentence. Derek was vaguely concerned that he’d broken him. “I mean. Are you trying to woo me?”

“That’s the general idea,” Derek said. He was suddenly very sure that Peter had been trying to sabotage him when he gave his advice. Derek should never have listened to him. Stiles was probably going to just run away now, and Derek would be left standing morosely in a sewer, because that’s the kind of life he lead.

“Oh,” Stiles said. He fidgeted with the jammer. “That’s… I mean. I appreciate it.”

“Are you…” Derek had no idea how to finish that sentence, but lucky for him, Stiles always had plenty of extra words to throw around. 

“I’m willing to be wooed, yes,” Stiles replied. “Which I guess you’ve been aware of, what with your super senses and all that.”

“You’re very subtle,” Derek said reassuringly. He moved closer, close enough that he could hear how Stiles’ heartbeat matched his own, too fast and too loud.

“It’s one of my finest qualities,” Stiles agreed. “I think you should try that kiss again. Aim for the mouth.”

Derek did.

It was much, much nicer. He had Stiles crowded up against the wall, pressed in close, and this time he managed to not mash his face against Stiles’, but instead he licked and nipped and tasted Stiles’ mouth like he’d been dreaming of.

It was as good as he’d imagined.

Stiles kept making tiny, appreciative sounds, and then…

Then there was a strange beeping sound.

“What is that?” Derek asked as he pulled away.

Stiles looked sheepish. “Um. I think I hit a button on the jammer.”

“It’s supposed to be silent.” Derek had been there when they were designing it.

“In the proper setting,” Stiles agreed, staring down at the box. He jabbed at the buttons. “But, um. I reversed it. Sort of. The important thing is that we’re totally screwed right now.”

Even as Derek shifted his attention upstairs, he could hear several heartbeats. The hunters must have rushed in when their electronics went crazy. 

“Guess we can’t steal the grimoire right now,” Derek said calmly.

“That would probably end in death and dismemberment, yeah,” Stiles nodded.

“So I guess we’ll just have to occupy ourselves here,” Derek continued.

“That’s awful,” Stiles said, moving in for another kiss. “Tragic, even.”

Derek knew they could steal the grimoire properly after the hunters cleared out, looking for the threat, so there was really only one thing left _to_ do.

Practice made perfect, after all.


End file.
